


snipe right

by applcmans



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Moxlea, Sort Of, and jon's too tired, and leakee's v cocky, shawn's way too happy, the first chapter 's short but the others will be longer, they don't stay enemies for long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 14:20:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20175697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applcmans/pseuds/applcmans
Summary: Jon's brain consists of four thoughts: eat, sleep, pretend you're someone else in public, and murder wanna-be fascist assholes using a laundry list of methods. He doesn't have much space for anything else.Especially tall, dark, and handsome assassins with too-confident smirks and thick thighs.Well, Leakee likes to take up space, it seems. And Jon doesn't get much sleep, anyway.or:two trigger-happy shitheads get to know each other and maybe fall in love between hit #63 and hit #70





	snipe right

**Author's Note:**

> so, i have not watched wrestling in a while. but this idea just came to me, and i've been wanting to writing something for a while. i hope you enjoy, leave a comment if you liked it or have any feedback!

Dean Ambrose was a lot of things; someone who you could make small talk with over a couple of beers, the only guy in Ohio Valley who knew how to make the perfect chilli dog, and a person who had his friends’ backs when shit hit the fan. No one really knows about Dean’s past, only that it sounds like it fucking sucked, and that he was able to become a better person than the one that life was trying to mold him into. 

  
  


A pretty stand-up guy by most accounts. 

  
  


Dean Ambrose also wasn’t real. 

  
  


Jon Moxley certainly was though. And he was currently irritated as all hell. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Moxley, there you are!”

  
  


Jon winced as Shawn’s booming voice cut through his eardrums. He had spent all night chasing after some politician fuckhead in a Honda Civic. His whole body ached and he was sluggish and there was still gunk in his eyes that he couldn’t be bothered to rub out. But that’s what you had to deal with when you were paid to kill people for a living. 

  
  


Yes, Jon Moxley was an assassin. A hitman, a gun-for-hire, a contract killer or whatever the fuck people in this profession were called. If he was being honest (which he did way too much for a man who was living a double life), Jon couldn’t care less what his ‘title’ was, as long as he got his paycheck for blowing out some smarmy asshole’s brains out. 

  
  


This meant that Jon had to take on a fake identity. Enter Dean, the blue-collar, hard-working man with a certain charm to him that many folks loved. It was kind of refreshing to just lay back and exist in the world without much worry. 

  
  


But now Jon was Jon, and not Dean. Which meant he had a lot less tact at 4 o’clock in the goddamn morning. 

  
  


“Could you turn down the volume a lil’ bit, Michaels? Don’t need to hear that shit during the ass crack of dawn. Or ever.” 

  
  


Jon probably sounded cranky, but that’s because he  _ was _ .

  
  


Shawn just smiled and strolled over to Jon, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. God, how was this guy so…  _ full of cheer _ right now? If rumors were to be believed, it might’ve been because he got hitched recently, but that wasn’t any of Jon’s business. 

  
  


“Ah. So eager and lively. Just like I said.”

  
  


“I can see that.”, came a deep rumble from behind Shawn. Jon glanced over Shawn’s shoulder, spotting a tall, shadowy figure standing in front of the boxing ring. 

  
  


Jon grunted as he fumbled for the light switch. He had never heard that voice before, and he wanted to know just who this guy was. The lights came on, and Jon could see the man more clearly. 

  
  


The first thing that came to mind was that the guy was attractive.  _ Really  _ attractive. He had brown skin, arms that were clearly muscled - and huge - and the hint of a tattoo was poking out of the sleeve of his t-shirt. Some type of pattern. His thighs were not as defined as his arms, but they were as thick. The man had a scruffy face and sharp cheekbones, his eyes were also sharp, although Jon couldn’t see what color they were from where he was. His lips were pink and pouty, and his hair was a deep, dark color, and reached his shoulders. 

  
  


“Made you speechless, huh?” 

  
  


So he was mouthy, too. 

  
  


Jon let out a scoff and walked over to the stranger, coming to a halt in front of him. Their eyes met, and all Jon saw were two dark brown pools. They somehow managed a balance of warmth and steeliness.

  
  


This wasn’t the time to get lost in Mystery Man’s goddamn eyes, so Jon curled his lip into a snarl and look him up and down. When he looked back up, he caught the stranger doing the same. 

  
  


“What’s your name, tough guy?” 

  
  


“Leakee.”, he replied, eyes shifting around the room. 

  
  


Jon thought about that for a second.  _ Leakee _ . Had a good amount of syllables. Longer names weren’t bad, though, not at all. But this name sounded very nice in his head, nice enough for Jon to roll off his tongue. Not that he would be saying his name often, mind you. 

  
  


He waited a bit, then asked another question. 

  
  


“No last name?” 

  
  


“Do I need one?” 

  
  


Leakee’s eyes were laser-focused on him again, and his mouth curved ever so slightly into a smirk. Jon hummed. The other man wouldn’t back down. He was stubborn. And he was cocky. Reminded Jon of himself in some ways.

  
  


Leakee was interesting. And Jon Moxley was interested. 


End file.
